He paints with a purpose. Not really thinking about the colors he is using or of the mixture that happens when they overlap. What he is seeing is hard enough to transfer onto canvas but he wants this to be good. He wants it to be understood.
So he concentrates on the way he moves the brush, the way the paint would follow and later on harden with its direction obviously expressed. He moves the brush carefully on the curves and swift with the straight lines. He uses the items he'd practiced with continually for the past month as it would help greatly in forming the painting.
In this way Damian continued, hardly noticing his family when they check in on him. Not hearing their quiet words of praise nor their inquiries about it. It's a scenery they don't recognize except perhaps Bruce but only because it reminded him of another island, one he knew his son knew intimately.
They leave him alone while he paints, only occasionally did Alfred come by to make sure he'd eaten in between his breaks while he thought of how to express a part of the landscape he was molding with his brush.
When he was finished, he stayed by the painting, watching it dry. And in the morning when the paint had molded to his satisfaction, he spoke with his father and asked for help in delivering the painting. They would have to take the batplane for it as flying even by private plane would be dangerous.
Bruce watches his son as Damian walks toward an old man who sat peacefully on a set of large stones, the sea breeze pushing against his long robes, his eyes closed to feel the wind.
He does not hear what they say as the words are lost to the wind that doesn't reach him. He remains a silent observer as Damian sets up the easel and then reveals the painting, placing it carefully. Damian then lifts gently an old hand and sets it on a corner of the canvas. He sees his lips moving as he carefully guides that hand around the canvas.
Ravi is in tears as he listens and lets Damian guide him. His unseeing eyes shimmering, a smile growing on his lips as he continued to let Damian talk, continued to say in each word and feel of the canvas, 'I'm sorry.'
And finally when the boy stops. Ravi hears him hesitate. And before his once prideful charge could say aloud what he had already been saying all the while, he turns towards him. "Thank you, Lord Damian. It is beautiful."
Though he cannot see it, he hears it in the careful breathing and unsteady intake of breath. The boy was crying. It would've surprised him had he not already noticed the changes in the boy from before. He had become more expressive in his manner, more open in his thinking and more like a person who had learned what it meant to be human. Damian would always be Lord Damian to him but the title and respect he had for the boy was because he had grown to see and to be beyond what he had been taught. He had become more than just an Al Ghul. He had simply become Damian.
Just a scenario inspired by that heartbreaking scene where Dami looks at Ravi with a sad and regretful face as he touches the painting he can no longer see and still call it beautiful.
Robin: Son of Batman #4